


Not entirely bad- in fact tolerable

by spicywatson



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Day At The Beach, Family, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 23:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicywatson/pseuds/spicywatson
Summary: just something quick and cute I wrote to cheer myself up!





	Not entirely bad- in fact tolerable

It’s no surprise that Oswald is not one to spend his days lounging around, allowing precious minutes to tick by without filling out at least one bundle of paperwork. There’s not a second he can lose being idle, not with his countless responsibilities. Wearing Gotham’s crown and having a child is a combination that complicates things greatly.

This was Ed’s idea. ‘A little R and R,’ he had said, with a smile and a sweet kiss pressed to Oswald’s cheek. If he’s being perfectly honest, the thought of lying in the hot sand for hours upon hours under a sweltering sun is not one that pleases Oswald. He growled and grumbled over it but his husband did not sway. In the end he agreed, although he discreetly stuffed a few business documents into his bag while Ed’s eyes were focused elsewhere. Hopefully, if Ed becomes distracted enough with Martin, Oswald will be able to peruse his papers and actually get something done.

When they arrive on the white-golden shores, Oswald is unsure if he’ll even be able to read said documents, with the blindingly-bright sun beating down on them. He is, however, quite happy to find the beach totally empty, free from the annoying company of others (or at least almost empty; a few people at the far end of the beach hurriedly collect their belongings when they see the Penguin and the Riddler stroll in). Still, Oswald isn’t entirely surprised that Gothamites are less than enthusiastic about lying out in the open like sitting ducks.

Martin stirs in his arms, and becomes more and more anxious to get down and explore this strange new territory. This concerns Oswald somewhat. He frowns, planting himself firmly in the dry, tangled weeds as Ed eagerly continues on towards the foamy water, sandals kicking up soft sand. Oswald pushes down any rising thoughts that the cool liquid rushing over his feet might feel rather nice. Who knows what filthy seaweed, discarded plastic cups, or used syringes could be floating in the waves.

Ed drops armfuls of beach supplies and turns back to Oswald, who has not moved. “What is it?”

“Edward, my baby is not sitting in the sand. It’s probably diseased,” he grimaces and holds Martin closer, as if shielding him from the festering ground.

Ed sighs, although he can’t hold back a fond smile. “Honey, he’ll be _fine._ Sand does not carry some kind of virus. Trust me, I’m a scientist,” he winks as he crouches and fumbles through their beach bags.

Oswald keeps a firm glare on him. “Edward, _I_ am not sitting in the sand either.”

“I figured you would have an issue with it, so…” he unzips one bag and drags a heaping pile of beach towels out, “I brought you some blankets!” 

The pleased grin Ed gives him makes Oswald’s heart squeeze. He bites his lip as a little smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. Ed knows him so well. It’s astonishing he didn’t realize they were meant for each other the moment they met.

Once Ed’s laid out the towels, Oswald bends down and gingerly places Martin on the blanket like he’s made of fine china. Martin gazes up at him for a moment, big brown eyes bright and a little smile on his face, to which Oswald responds with an encouraging wave of his hand. Martin begins looking about, absorbing his surroundings. Being in this new place is surely an exciting experience. As Oswald busies himself in the cooler, Martin eagerly begins to totter towards the gentle foaming waters on chubby, unsteady legs. Oswald barely notices until his child is nearly at the edge, cool water lapping at his tiny feet. “Martin!” Oswald’s eyes widen with unreasonable panic.

Thankfully, Ed takes a few long strides and sweeps their son into his arms. “Where do you think you’re going, buster?” The baby giggles silently, round little cheeks flushed pink. Oswald smiles, his heart settling again as Ed sets Martin down next to him. While Oswald goes back to fishing around in the cooler, his husband takes to mounting their large umbrella, positioning it to keep Oswald in the shade. With the sun on him, he’s likely to fry until he’s red, boiled like a lobster.

“So are you going to take him in the water later?” Oswald asks, finally discovering a juice box and placing it into Martin’s desperate little hands.

“That’s the plan,” Ed flops down next to them, giving Martin’s hair a quick ruffle. “And _you’re_ coming with us,” he grins devilishly and leans in to press his lips to Oswald’s.

“If I had it my way, none of us would set foot- no- none of us would even stick one _toe_ in that disgusting water,” Oswald furrows his brow, “I mean, can you imagine what kind of sickening waste builds up on a beach?”

Ed slides a hand up and down his back, soothing him a bit. “You don’t need to worry about that, sweetheart. If I thought it was unsafe, I would never allow Martin in there.”

Oswald’s nerves settle.

As the day draws out, the sun rises high in the sky and Oswald, whose face has turned a shade of pink much too bright for his liking, is left to seek shelter under the large brim of the umbrella. He stretches his cramping leg out in front of him and gratefully cracks open a bottle of ice cold water. He thinks briefly that he’s glad no one can see him like this, red-skinned, hair tangled, and dressed in a one-piece striped swimsuit he still finds a bit too revealing. Ed likes it though, likes how the red stripes bring out the green in his eyes, likes how it hugs the curves of Oswald’s more rounded figure.

“Hey Martin!” Ed tilts his head to the side, trying to gain his son’s attention. “How about you and I go surfing?” Martin doesn’t react, his eyebrows pinching together as he takes to the very serious business of crushing his sand castle (which, in actuality, is just a lumped up pile of sand and dried seaweed).

Oswald shakes his head, trying to hide his smile and remain stern. “Honey, Daddy’s insane. Don’t listen to him.”

“Martin! Let’s go surfing!” This time, their son peels his brightened eyes away from his destroyed construction. Now, the idea seems to excite him, although he undoubtedly does not know what surfing is and has never even seen a surfboard in his short life. 

“Edward,” Oswald sighs, tone half-heartedly chiding. 

Ed pouts his lip and gazes down apologetically at Martin. “Boring old Papa says no.” Then, with lightened eyes, he briefly rummages through one of the bags before deciding to dump its contents onto the soft ground. Martin releases a little gasp, eyes widening as countless brightly colored plastic beach toys are strewn before him.

Apparently, Ed went shopping.

Oswald’s feels his chest nearly bursting, butterflies wild in his stomach. He could kiss him. 

Instead, he helps himself to a small bunch of red grapes and saves Martin from having to see a passionate display of affection between his parents.

Ed seems equally as excited as Martin is to build something with all his wonderful new supplies. “Okay, let’s build something fun!” Ed flops down into the sand, propped up on his elbows. “How about we build Daddy’s Riddle Factory?” 

The way he says this is so infused with enthusiasm, it’s clear to Oswald that he’s quite excited to have a mini-Riddler. His husband is always trying to make an imprint on their child, right down to the smallest detail. Oswald rolls his eyes affectionately and pops a sweet grape into his mouth as he settles on his side to watch the two.

Truth be told, Oswald had been a bit uneasy at first, unsure of how Ed would react to bringing a child into their lives. While Oswald had his own mother to admire and learn from, Ed never had the type of gold-star role model parents to take after. But Oswald is incredibly pleased with how wonderfully Ed's done in settling into his role as a father. He’s attentive, caring, and he knows how to make Martin laugh.

Still, some days are difficult. Ed’s frustrations and feelings of inadequacy seep out of him, setting the whole house on edge as tension lays thick in the air. He would never lash out at their son, but Ed occasionally snaps at Oswald or is rude to Olga. He doesn’t mean to be like that, not really, and he soon tries to make up with his husband and their maid. But it doesn’t change the fact that he just feels inferior. Not good enough for Oswald, not good enough for Martin.

So there are times he distances himself and finds solitude. Martin can sense the tension too, often seeking the warm comfort of Oswald’s arms to cope and crying whenever Oswald is just out of reach. He rocks his son at night, reading him stories, singing to him, reassuring him that his father loves him more than anything. When Ed’s depression passes, it’s like nothing ever happened, and Martin goes to him willingly, and they smile and laugh together. Not one to bite his tongue, Oswald tries to iron things out with Ed, tries to dig to the root of his problems and work from there, but often he comes across as indelicate.

Regardless of the trouble and turmoil, Oswald wouldn’t trade his family for anything. Even though it seems as though cloudy days are far too often, the wonderful times outweigh the bad.

Ed sits cross-legged now, Martin settled in his lap as they collaborate on their work. Oswald’s heart swells and seizes, seeing father and son building together. Their likeness in uncanny: same dark hair, same glistening brown eyes, and both hold the same look of complete concentration as they work. _Perfectionists._

Ed’s hair falls over his forehead, thick locks curling a bit from the humidity, and his broad chest and shoulders are a little too red. He’s messy, unkempt, at ease. He looks incredible even out of a suit and without his hair neatly combed into place. 

Hands smoothing over the sand, Ed goes into great detail explaining zoning laws to his son, who listens intently but hasn’t the slightest clue as to why such rules matter. For a brief moment, Oswald laments how sandy and dusty his son’s tiny overalls have become, but he supposes he can’t worry too much on it. This day is for Martin to enjoy, to relish in the wonders found at the beach. He eagerly pats his pudgy little hands on the sand structure (which Oswald will admit looks absolutely nothing like the Riddle Factory, or anything even remotely resembling an inhabitable building).

“Ed, his cheeks are pink. I hope you brought sunscreen,” Oswald worries, reaching out to brush Martin’s curls back.

Ed pauses his work on the Riddle Factory to uncap the sunscreen bottle, chuckling a bit as Martin tries to squirm out of his lap and away from the pungent lotion. His little face twists into a scowl as Ed smooths over his cheeks and arms. 

A twinging pain clenches in Oswald’s leg. He gasps and clutches his ankle, trying to rub the ache away but to no avail. Anger burns his insides and he grits his teeth. Of all the days his leg could act up, why did it have to be the one dedicated to family time?

“Is it bad?” Ed asks softly. He reaches out and runs a warm hand up Oswald’s sore limb.

Oswald winces and nods.

“You know what would probably help…” Ed wiggles his eyebrows.

“No, Ed. Nooo,” Oswald protests, although he giggles as Ed offers him both hands, carefully pulling him to his feet.

“Yes, Oswald. You’re going in,” Ed responds, clearly very pleased with himself as he drops a kiss to Oswald’s furrowed brow. “C’mon Martin!”

They each take one of their son’s hands as they tread down to the water, lifting Martin up and swinging him back and forth a little between them. He enjoys this quite a bit, especially when they dangle him in the air, higher than his own height. Their son is a bit of a daredevil, it seems.

But when their toes touch the water, Martin hesitates, shying away from the white foam that bubbles up. Last time he had made a run for the water, his father had swept him up into his arms, as if it was too dangerous. Now, his parents urge him to take little steps through the soft wet sand.

Martin carefully toddles forward. It’s not so bad. Before the waves reach the cuffs of Martin’s pants, Ed gathers him up into his arms and carries him down deeper.

Oswald falls behind, a little uncertain about this.

But Ed was right- the silky water surging over Oswald’s legs and gently lapping at his skin is incredibly relaxing. It’s just cool enough so that it soothes his aching muscles but doesn’t paralyze him with its chill. He finds himself tipping his head back to relish in the sounds of the water, the feeling of the calm breeze twisting through his hair. 

Maybe it’s rather nice, being here. His husband and son seem happy enough.

Ed sinks down, holding Martin tight as the foamy water rushes over them. Martin squirms and giggles, his overalls thoroughly soaked (Oswald makes a note to invest in a little swimsuit for him next time). Ed bobs them up and down for a bit.

“This is fun, isn’t it Martin? See, your father would rather see you swaddled in bubble wrap, locked up in a tower-”

“I would not!” Oswald splashes Ed playfully and he yelps in surprise. When Ed retaliates by tossing a clump of seaweed at him, Oswald shrieks and swats at his arm, careful not to knock Martin out of his hold. Martin picks a piece of seaweed off of Ed’s chest and makes a weak attempt to throw it at Oswald.

“Ed, you’re teaching him poor behavior!” Oswald squawks, crossing his arms.

His husband rolls his eyes affectionately. “We’re _crimelords,_ Os. He’s bound to pick up some bad behavior,” Ed laughs, passing the wriggling baby to Oswald.

Oswald huffs and levels his glare at Ed, who is still clearly amused. He kisses the very tip of Oswald’s nose, something he especially loves to do when he knows Oswald is in a bad mood. Oswald bites his lip to hold back a smile, not willing to give Ed the satisfaction.

They spend a longer time in the water than Oswald had intended, but he finds he doesn’t mind. He’d lost track of the hour and instead gotten caught up in watching his child splash about excitedly.

“He’s going to sleep really well tonight,” Oswald says, quirking an eyebrow. Ed hums in agreement, sliding an arm around Oswald’s waist as they enjoy the sight of Martin’s play.

They return to the warm golden sand, wet footprints sinking into the soft ground as they trek to their towels and flop down. Oswald feels like he could melt, his body feeling limp and heavy after traipsing through the soothing cool water under the sizzling sun. Almost involuntarily, his eyes drift closed, and he just savors the feeling of warm air, the sound of seagulls calling.

“This is really nice,” he sighs, without even thinking. His insistence that he hates the beach seems to wither away, much to his dismay. He can almost _hear_ Ed’s smile of satisfaction as he curls an arm around Oswald’s back and tucks his face into his shoulder. “Where’s Martin?” Oswald mumbles, forcing his eyes open, squinting as the bright daylight floods his vision.

There Martin is, propped up next to him, although his head tips forward every so often, eyes slipping shut and snapping open again. He’s clearly trying his very best not to give in to the temptation of sleep, although the events of the day (his first ever at the beach) have sapped most of his energy.

Oswald rolls off his stomach, chuckles and strokes Martin’s cheek. “Ed, he’s falling asleep sitting up,” he coos, before scooping his baby up and tucking him between himself and Ed. Sand clings to his dark brown curls, which have become stiff and salty from the water.

“It’s been a good day,” Ed murmurs, running his fingers through Martin’s hair as the baby curls up closer to Oswald. A smile tugs at Ed’s lips. The bridge of his nose is bright red. Oswald grins back.

Their eyes meet, Ed’s own fluttering as if he’s holding off sleep that longs to pull him under. Oswald nestles just a little closer, his husband’s body heat seeping into his bones, lulling him to sleep. 

It takes Oswald a moment to realize that he never once even touched those business documents he had brought with him. His eyes slip shut.


End file.
